Fate's Cruel Judgment
by Terrorking Tragedian
Summary: An innocent day, an innocent couple, suffer a terrible tragedy. The innocent always suffer the most. A Miley and Jake tragedy. Intended oneshot, but I can decide on extensions. Please read and review!


A tragic "sudden death" story that came to me when I read my Chinese textbook. I know that my philosophy scorns romantic love as a waste of your life, money and time, but in art, romantic love is a very dominant element. So here, tragedy+love+some melodramagoodness. This work is between Jake and Miley, and is told from Jake's point of view.

I borrowed the plot heavily, but not entirely, from a short story by Chen Qi You, a Chinese critic, author, and poet born in 1953. The said story is named "Yong Yuan De Hu Die" in my Chinese textbook, translated into English being "Eternal Butterfly". I remembered slaving hard at this for three hours on its first draft, driven by enthusiasm, my textbook open beside the laptop. However I hadn't learned how to use the features in yet (and thank goodness for that; it wasn't half as good!). Of course, English language can never bring out the same beauty that Chinese can, even though both are lingual arts.

Actually I wrote this in February 2007, but never got to publish it because I thought it sounded really silly. And it did – until I made major edits everywhere, resulting in what you're about to read. This was also the actual FIRST story I had ever written on this laptop, and now to be my fifth story released. The part close to the ending is entirely original.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, nor any character involved. The story is based on the original short story by Chen Qi You.

Now on with the story. I like to use some irony.

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It was a rainy night, down busy Malibu Town Centre. Lights of green, red and yellow illuminate the roads like millions of fireflies. Sounds of motor vehicles and beeps of horns are the cacophonous symphony, and the hustle and bustle of the streets provide a melody of endless conversation between people you've seen once and will never see again. Arrays of stores and malls flank the road, and there is a warm atmosphere hanging around like a low cloud. But there was a moderately heavy rain at the time.

In my ears play the joyous song of energetic happiness and the struggling sounds of tiredness.

Across the street is the majestic destination, a giant mega-mall where wares are sold in tons; as plentiful as Portobello road. Seas and mountains of people jostled at each other to get at the shops. Miley wanted to cross the road and enter it, joining a world's population of people in there. I was never fond of shopping myself, but Miley's birthday forced me out of my doorstep and for a day I've treated her with free shopping bag carrying service. My feet felt as sore as the day we filmed the "Zombie High: The Movie" final duel part against Zerronda's evil twin brother.

"Hey, can we please take a break at McDonald's for a minute, please?"

"Jake! There are a hundred shops whose calls I must heed in that mall!"

"Miles! we've been walking for hours! I'm thirsty!"

"Now you just sound like a kid."

"Well you try to step into my shoes. And I mean it; my feet are killing me!"

Miley rolled her eyes contemptuously.

Tch. Well it's her birthday, and my death. I will definitely need a foot rub when I get home, I thought as I hoisted her shopping bags loaded with everything imaginable.

"Right. Let's do this then." I muttered with determination, using a very popular line from Zombie High: The Movie.

Miley replied a sunny laugh, eyes twinkling merrily. She made to cross the street, flinging one of her twin plaited ponytails over her shoulder with a casual wave of her hand. I smiled at her back, witnessing her glowing energy and shining beauty. This was the Miley whenever we were together, laughing, smiling, enjoying the miracle of life together. We were a perfect couple. She motioned me to follow with a casual gesture. I obeyed and made to cross the busy street.

The road was only ten metres across. It should not have happened. But the sound of happiness was replaced by a song of danger, the song of the enemy, and the music chanted like a cacophonous roar in my ears. The choir of fate called for impending doom.

The next seconds were a blur before my eyes, yet it seemed so vivid. Everything went at slow motion.

A screech of tyres. Miley rose elegantly and lightly into the air, soft like a feather. As she descended gracefully onto the cold wet asphalt-laden ground, her life ended.

Time slowed down, as if stunned at some horrifying spectacle. But it wasn't quite so horrifying at all. If not, it was actually enchanting, albeit in a dark way.

I took in everything as she made the arc across the air: the elegance likened to a butterfly of the night, her beautiful straight brown ponytails trailing, her sea-green coat worn around her frilly white shirt with a sea-green miniskirt to match, all that which made her look like a gentle wave by the beach as she sailed through the air. It was the same outfit she wore the second time we met; when she yelled at Tony the janitor and I for removing her locker and enlarging mine before being dragged unceremoniously into the basement levels.

Even now, I took a moment to register that scene mentally. It was half shock and disbelief, half mesmerism as I witnessed Miley's shining beauty.

Then the hammer fell.

Spring it was, but around us, autumn had begun. Torrential rains began to fall from the bleak dark sky; tears of a weeping deity. The warm atmosphere at once suffered a vacuum collapse, and Fate now tauntingly roars a cacophony of despair. Teasing life-ebbing pain reached its peak, mercilessly drilling the sight into my suddenly empty soul. My world had dissolved into a dark nothingness, cold and unfriendly, infinite as an abyss. I was standing still in a soliloquy, devoid of light, warmth and hope, paralysed in utter shock.

She was just crossing the road. It was so simple a maneuvre, yet it led to an eternity of regret. A scene that will remained burned in my memory forever.

I opened my subconscious eyes, and beheld the sight of Jake Ryan cradling the beautiful maiden in his shaking arms, staring disbelievingly with tearful eyes. All the cars in the world stopped; all people fell silent, and the world came to a standstill. Slowly a crowd gathered around in a nervous circle, uttering pity or horror.

"Oh, Good Lord..."

"What happened here?"

"She was so young, too..."

Nobody will knew that she was my beloved beauty; my reason for existence; my life support. The flower that stood out amongst others in the garden of Eden; my butterfly of the night. My butterfly, who was so far away as I touched her cold skin. She was soaring nine hundred leagues to the heavens, yet she felt tantalisingly close. It was like lucidly transparent veil, untouchable and impenetrable.

The rain fell harder now, mixing with the boiling tears in my eyes, seeping into my very soul; my life; my empty existence.

Why didn't I stop her? Why didn't we cross at the traffic light? It was just a few doors away. Why did I choose to follow her? Words can never express my regret.

Battling within me were monstrous emotions. In an instant I felt it dawning upon me like a dark suffocating mass.

The terrible tremor of anguish.

The cold emptiness of sudden loss.

I came to a realisation: it was all over for Miley.

I felt the unbearable excruciating pain that came with unmeasurable rage. Rage at Fate herself; cruel, unkind, sadistic, evil, and malicious. Fickle like the moon. Whimsical and gleeful at the sight of tragedy, fully aware of my boiling writhing emotions.

Still, beneath the cold skin, I felt a faint pulse. Fluttering like dying hopeless baby bird.

And the final rasps of life.

"Jake...is that you?"

"Miley?" I whispered waveringly, desperately holding on to her cold hand, as if she were dangling down a deep crevasse. I was trying to hold the ends of Miley's thinning thread of life, and I knew that Miley was doing the same as well.

Her half-open eyes were glossy and soulless, as if abandoned by her spirit. Reflecting the colours and lights of the street.

"What...happened?" She breathed with obvious effort.

"You were...I don't know...you were knocked...knocked down..." I stuttered hesitantly, not coming to believing it myself.

"Jake...I feel so cold..." She rasped, yet she was not shivering.

"You're alright, I hope. Stay with us." I whispered even more desperately.

"Am I dying?"

"No! Please, stay awake!" I nearly shouted.

"No...I can't hold on much longer...I'm dying..." Miley's eyes fluttered, beginning to close. I shook her vigorously once, bringing her eyes open once more.

"Jake...this is how we are to say goodbye...destiny..."

"No! Don't say that!"

"I want you to hear this before I depart for now. I never imagined it had to be like this, but now..."

She gasped in pain, her arm making a small movement towards her stomach. For the first time, as I lowered my gaze, I saw crimson red slowly dyeing her white shirt and sea-green coat. Before I could speak again, she continued.

"I love you Jake. Thank you so much for making my last day on Earth so wonderful. I'm so glad I met you."

"NO! Miley, stop saying that! You're not dying!"

The surrounding people seemed to be weeping tears of pity and sorrow. My tears were unstopped and unleashed from my brown eyes.

"Tell Daddy I love them too. For being the best dad The Lord can give. Tell Jackson I love him too; even though we fight all the time, he's still my brother. They're not here to hear this from me. But my time is nigh."

Miley's hand suddenly released its weak grip, now lying on my hand like a cold dead fish. Every word was sapping her of much needed strength.

"Miley, stop. You need to save your strength."

"Lilly and Oliver I love them for being such great friends. They've been with me through everything. We swore to be best friends forever, yet this is how I must part with them..."

"Don't talk any more! You need to save your breath!"

"I won't have my breath for much longer. It's now or never."

The blood started to stain my trousers. Already it has dyed half her top red, and the crimson was now encroaching onto the sea-green miniskirt. Her breath was nearly non-existent by now. I was losing her.

"I love you Jake. I know you'll want to say the say thing too. It's too bad we can never share a last kiss...I hope my last words will suffice..."

"MILEY!"

"Thank you for being here with me, listening..."

Miley's eyes closed slowly, for the last time. I hung on to the till the bitter end.

"MILEY! MILEY NO! STAY WITH ME!"

"Bye Jake...good bye..."

Echoes through my head rampant ran. With a last sigh, Miley Stewart passed away. My love was gone forever, and with it went the stars in the sky, snuffed out like a candle light. As was her life.

Snuffed out forever...

If only I had stopped her at the time...this would never have happened.

But it was too late.

Somewhere behind the horizon, I could hear Fate cackling with laughter. The music of despair was replaced by an odd ringing in my ears.

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And that ends it. After major editing of the six-month-old text, and addition of the conclusion of this little story, I've done it at last. And reading it again, I've decided that it was much MUCH better than the draft done in February. Only problem is: I was typing with a headache, and you know when you have a headache, you can feel no emotion save irritability and annoyance. But it's done.

I originally intended this to be a one-shot story; a simple short story within one chapter. But if I come up with a continuation from here, I'll gladly add it down. After all, some one-shots develop into four or five chapters later; my other story "Over the Edge" is example well enough. The story which this one was based on, however, is just a short story; probably one page long. "Eternal Butterfly" is what we call in Chinese to be a "Xiao xiao shuo", meaning little short story; therefore, a one-shot.

For now, enjoy, and please tell me what you feel about this. Was it too little? Was it too much? Was it a little too similar compared to the rest of my stories? (Prime example being Over The Edge.) Remarks mean a lot to me. After all, this is the first story I typed on this laptop, younger than my first story submitted (Mother and Daughter) by about four months.

Signing off, Terrorking Tragedian


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